


On A Dagger's Edge

by iduna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Foul Language, Kit has an attitude, More tags to be added as the needs arise, Others have problems with that, Serious potty mouth, They love each other anyway, Violence, mostly at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iduna/pseuds/iduna
Summary: What happens when the past won't stay there? A man and a woman are about to find out, and they're dragging all the usual suspects along with them. Romance, intrigue, sword fights, bandits, and maybe a dragon or two will make an appearance in this story of idiots that have issues. They discover that what matters is finding that person whose crazy plays nicely with your crazy. It's not the amount of baggage that matters as much as whether or not they match.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	1. Homeward Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to theCelticMyst for her help. If I fuck this up royally, don't blame her. She does her best. I'm planning on posting Chapter 2 today or tomorrow... I haven't decided...

_Cullen,_

_I’m sorry. You deserve better than I can offer you. My life is… well, it’s complicated, and you’re a better man than that. I know that you believe in your own guilt, but you did the best you knew how. When the time came to stand up for what was right, you did that. Her sins are not yours, so stop thinking that they were._

_I care for you, but I can’t stay. I have obligations that must be met. You’re doing good work here, and you’ll keep doing it. Maybe one day, you’ll look in the glass and see the good man that I see looking back at you. You **are** a good man, and I’ll miss you more than you can know. _

_Kit_

The letter had been crumpled, flattened back out, and refolded many, many times since that morning. Paper creases and oils from fingers now stained it. More than three years had passed, and Cullen still couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. It wasn’t hope that made him keep it. He’d long ago abandoned the hope that he’d see her again.

He’d finally decided that he kept the letter because he wanted the assurance that someone thought he could change. It was the first time that anyone told him that the man he wanted to be wasn’t lost forever.

He looked out over the Waking Sea; toward the city he’d spend the last ten years in. Kirkwall. The wind and sails were carrying him across the water, back to the land of his birth. He made the decision to leave, not only Kirkwall and the Gallows, but the Order behind him. There was only one more thing left to do.

In his right hand, he held the last vial of lyrium in his possession. Without hesitation, he hurled it into the water, using all his strength to get it as far away from him as possible. He was going to make a clean break of it. If lyrium and the Templar Order had helped him hide from who he wished to be, then who he became depended on not using either as a crutch in the future. He might die, he may hope for death, but he believed that his salvation depended on him, and with Andraste’s help; and that of the Seeker, he’d find that man one way or another.

The ship lurched on the water, and Cullen was tossed against the railing. His stomach decided that now was the time to empty itself, and the vomited over the side.

He hoped it was seasickness and not an omen of things to come.


	2. The Day Before the World Changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to theCelticMyst... again.

Gianna Trevelyan dressed quickly in her leather armor. Her brown hair was braided neatly down the back of her head, then wrapped quickly into a bun at the nape of her neck. She didn’t even pause to look at her reflection in the smudged looking glass hanging above a roughly hewn dresser. She didn’t need to. She was traveling. Comfort and utility were far more important than attractiveness to her.

It wasn’t the same way for her cousin Thea, dressing in the candlelit gloom of the early morning behind her. As a Chantry Sister, she presumed that her appearance indicated some sort of favor with Andraste. Her clothes were always spotless, her hair tidy, and her smile was insipidly benign.

That would have been her fate if things had been different. Her Aunt Francesca, who was currently the Grand Cleric in Starkhaven, had once had her career all planned out. In that plan, Gianna would have been the Trevelyan Divine. To her immense relief, those plans had been frustrated, and her aunt had yet to forgive her for it.

“We’re arriving at the Temple today, Gigi,” Thea crinkled her perfectly powdered nose at Gianni’s outfit. “You should dress more appropriately. You’re representing the Family, after all.”

“Shut it, Thea,” Gianna snapped, spinning to look at her cousin. “I’m not travelling in a fucking dress. I’m not going to trudge up a mountain in one, either.” Shaking her head in disgust, she continued. “You can if you like, that’s your choice. Andraste doesn’t give a shit one way or the other.”

“We’re on our way to a sacred site.” Thea’s hands flexed and her voice was brisk and impatient. “Can you try to keep from blaspheming every other sentence?” She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of her gown. “I don’t know why anyone thought sending YOU was a good idea.”

Gianna’s palm tingled with the desire to slap Thea senseless. “No one else wanted to waste their time, and I just wanted to leave Starkhaven.” She opened the door, took a step through, and then turned around. “The Divine gave me the excuse. It was a match made in the Void.

“Now, get your ass moving. We need to be in Haven by mid-day, or we’re hiking up to the Temple in the dark.” She finished going through the door, then turned. “Arriving at the Temple like pilgrims isn’t going to keep the Templars and Mages from trying to kill each other. Justinia is foolish for thinking it will. They’ll just be trying to kill each other on the hike to the Temple.” She closed the door behind her, waiting a minute, listening, as Thea said something vulgar at the door, the words and tone made her smile. Pissing off and scandalizing Chantry Sisters was among her favorite things in life; more so if they were related to her. 

_It’s the simple pleasures_ , she thought, descending the stairs of the inn.

Several hours later, and Gianna was trapped in a carriage with Thea, wishing that propriety would allow her to ride alongside Leo and Rupert. During the trip, there were several arguments on the subject, and she lost every single one of them. She was reminded that she was considered the senior member of the Trevelyan delegation. _How pompous did that sound_ , she thought, and since she was a woman, arriving to the Conclave astride a horse was considered bad form.

She’d spent the last two miserable weeks in the presence of Chantry adherents, and the lectures were long past getting old. If only they’d find new material. To her cousins, she was only one step away from being a heretic. While she did believe in the Maker and was open to the possibility that Andraste was his Bride, she hated the Chantry with everything she had. In her opinion, it was disgusting in its Corruption, and the self-righteous piety of its servants made her itch. Those in power served the Maker with their lips, but their hearts lay elsewhere. As a member of a family that prided itself on devotion, she encountered those servants far more often than she liked. Here she was, traveling with three of them, and there wasn’t enough alcohol in Thedas to drown her annoyance.

“Rupert thinks you’re going to embarrass the family at the Conclave,” Thea remarked, not even looking up from her book.

Without even looking at her cousin Gianna replied, “Embarrass the family or embarrass him?”

“Is there a difference?” Thea challenged.

“Yes,” Gianna answered. “An exceptionally large difference, if you want the truth. To you and your brothers, doing anything but echoing the Chantry’s opinion like some sort of ventriloquist’s dummy is embarrassing. To my father, embarrassment takes a different form.

“Well, if wagers are being made, put money on me doing something embarrassing.” Gianna peeked out the curtains of the carriage, then tapped her fingers on the windowsill. “Someone other than me should profit from my misdeeds.” She stopped speaking and stared out the window for several minutes.

“I do wonder how a family that took the motto, ‘Modest in Temper; Bold In Deed’ has managed to produce so many people who are anything but bold. Perhaps we should change it to “Insipid in Temper; Timid in Deed.”

“How dare…”

“Shut up, Thea, and listen.” Gianna snapped. She turned to face her cousin before she continued. “You’re angry that my father refused to use me to pay Grandpere’s imaginary debt to the Maker.” Thea opened her mouth to object and Gianna held up her finger to silence her. “I understand why you would be. It is, however, not my fault, and I cannot understand why you dislike me for it so much. I also can’t bring myself to care.”

“If you’re not going to serve the Chantry, you should be married.” Thea huffed, expelling air from her lungs as if she were trying to extinguish a several candles at once. “Is there a reason why you can’t just do what you’re expected to?”

“I’ve seen the toll it takes, and the misery it causes. I’m not willing to do that.” She knew that Thea wouldn’t understand, but she felt the need to explain. “I refuse to be a tool for someone else’s gain. I refuse to be used so that someone else gets what they want.

“If I married Sebastian Vael, I’d be nothing more than a hole to fill or a brood mare, pushing out the requisite heir and a spare. I’d be miserable and I’d make him miserable.” Gianna smiled when Thea reacted to the vulgarity. “Look at your parents. They did what was expected of them, and they can’t stand to be in the same house. They’re only happy when they’re flinging arrows of spite at each other.”

If Gianna expected the light of understanding to appear in Thea’s eyes, she would have been disappointed. Gianna was a realist and didn’t expect that at all. It didn’t deter her, though. She pressed on, not for her cousin’s education, but to have the satisfaction of saying the words aloud. “Francesca was given to the Chantry, and she hates her life. She hates everyone, Thea,” she insisted. “Her only pleasures in life are wine, whining, and forcing others to do what she wants them to. What’s worse than that is that you’re turning into her.

“I don’t want to become a bitter and hateful old woman because I didn’t have the courage to say no.” She was crying now, silent tears of frustration and rage streamed down her face. In the curtained carriage, she was finally being honest with someone that she knew couldn’t understand.

“I have the means to walk my own path, and I intend to do it.” She wiped the tears with the back of her hand, then looked Thea in the eye. “You don’t understand; you think I’m crazy or worse, but it doesn’t matter. What I want is more important than whether or not the next Prince of Starkhaven has Trevelyan blood.”

“So, you’re just selfish.” Thea accused.

“Fuck off, Thea.” A sigh followed. This is why she had argued for waiting to travel with Max and Gavin. Her cousins had the emotional depth of a dead carp.

“It’s about time you all learned that I’m not going to light myself on fire because you say you’re cold.”

It was useless. Though they both had the same grandparents, only one of them took after the fiery Tevinter grandmother that married the boring Marcher Lord. Gianna leaned her head back, exhaled slowly, and closed her eyes.

“I promised Aunt Frankie that I’d talk to you about Sebastian. He’s a good…”

_Here we go again…_

“Aunt Frankie needs to fuck off, too.” Gianna lifted her hands gloved in snoufleur leather and massaged her temples. They couldn’t get to Haven fast enough. The walk up the mountain in the bleeding cold would be idyllic compared to the time she’d spent with her extended family.

Blood is thicker than whisky, Mata used to say. Mentally, Gianna added that whisky was usually more pleasant than family as well.

Gianna looked at Thea and saw the look; the look that Francesca wore almost exclusively in the presence of her niece. It was pity, mixed with a touch of disgust and a profound sense of disappointment. What neither woman seemed to understand is that the _Look_ had stopped having any effect by the time she turned 15. By then, she’d realized that her Aunt was basically toothless, and her disappointment meant nothing.

“He’s a good man,” Thea repeated. “It would be a good marriage for you, and for him. It would be good for the family, an alliance with the royal house of Starkhaven. You should at least think about it more.”

“I did think about it,” she countered. “I decided not to. He may be a good man, but he’s also a pretentious, poncey, overly pious princeling. We have nothing in common.”

Thea opened her mouth to speak but stopped at the look on her cousin’s face. Maybe something in Gianna’s visage made her realize that there wasn’t anything she could say that would convince her. More likely, it was a strategic retreat, taking time to frame the argument differently. It didn’t matter. That’s when the carriage lurched to a halt.

Gianna smiled at the reprieve.

The reprieve had the life span of a nug in a dragon’s nest. The door to the carriage opened, and she was met by the countenance of her cousin Leo. He extended his hand to help her down. After she got out, he did the same for his sister Thea.

Rupert, Leo, and Thea were the three youngest children of her uncle Mason and his wife Marnie. She was born into a family from Tantervale. Once married, they kept the Trevelyan family tradition alive, and rapidly brought 5 children into the world. Two were kept as the heir and spare, both bargaining chips in the marriage meat market, and the last three were given to the Chantry at the earliest possible moment. Marnie may have been willing to give birth to 5 children but raising them seriously impacted her social life. It also made it more difficult to maintain the maximum difference from her husband. After the children were grown, her aunt and uncle only interacted when they were forced to, and no one really wanted to be around when they did.

Neither cared about the collateral damage of their feuding.

It was quite different from Gianna’s own home life. That included parents that never learned to keep their hands off the other and the children that resulted from it. Her childhood home was often chaotic, but there was love.

“We can have your trunks opened if you want to change,” Leo said, cutting short her trip down memory lane. “I doubt you will. We must approach the Temple of Sacred Ashes on foot like pilgrims, so you’ll probably be better off as you are. Other ladies are wearing dresses, so I thought I’d offer.”

“No thank you, Leo,” she answered politely. “I have no intention of walking a couple of miles in a heavy skirt if I don’t have to.”

Leo smiled. He was the only one of her three cousins that she had anything in common with. He was a Templar, and usually Gianna disliked them on principle, but he was one that preferred being useful rather than decorative. After the invalidation of the Nevarran Accord, Rupert went to Starkhaven, where Francesca was Grand Cleric, to shelter under her protection. Leo followed the example of Knight Captain Rylen, who would rather throw water on the fire than smite the ash.

Like Gianna, he was called to go to Divine Justinia V’s conclave. Rupert and Thea were chosen by Grand Cleric Francesca to represent the Starkhaven Chantry in the talks. Leo chose to go to represent Kirkwall, and the remaining Chantry members there. They’d met Gianna in Ostwick, accompanying her to Denerim, and then to Haven.

His green eyes met those of his cousin, and he raised a single eyebrow. “Rupert is going to demand you change.” Leo rolled his eyes. “He’s an idiot.

“You’ll be on your own on the climb,” he said, changing the subject. “Ru and I will be with the Templars, and Thea is walking with the Sisters. I’m sure there will be other nobles you can walk with if you want.”

Gianna grinned. “Thank you, Leo, but no. I’ll walk by myself. I’ll tell Thea that I want to contemplate Andraste as I walk.”

“That will make her happy.”

“Something I do should.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid that nothing I’ve done this trip has pleased her much.”

Leo’s larger frame and longer arms enveloped Gianna in a hug. “She means well, but she doesn’t see that you have to walk your own path.” He laughed a little then continued, “Literally in this case. You weren’t raised to do what you’re told. Mata saw to that.”

Her eyes grew misty. She didn’t realize until now that Leo understood as well as he did.

“Mata used to say that well behaved women don’t make history. Do you remember?” He still had her tucked under his arm as they strolled toward the gates leading to the path up the mountain. “It’s why she taught you like she did. It’s why she left you the money. You are supposed to make your own history, not follow ours.”

Before they reached the gates, Leo stopped and turned to face Gianna, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“How did you get so smart?” Gianna quipped, getting on tiptoe to kiss her much taller cousin’s cheek.

“I read more than the Chant of Light and dull histories.” His face lit up in a conspiratorial smirk, then he handed her a paper wrapped parcel. 

“It’s Varric Tethris’ latest installment of **Hard in Hightown.** ” Leo opened the pack he was carrying and tucked the book inside before arranging the shoulder bag on Gianna. “When Thea finds it, don’t tell her you got it from me.”

Leo turned and took several steps toward the group of Templars that was waiting for him. He turned to face Gianna and wave. “See you at the Temple!”

She waved back and headed toward the gate, ready to trudge up the mountain to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. As she went through the gate, her thoughts were not on Andraste, but how the Divine probably took a carriage to the top of the damn mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sitting here, waiting for Kudos and comments. "Please, dear Maker, Don't let this suck." Please tell me it doesn't suck yet... LOL


	3. I Have... Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is pitted against demons. Gianna is pitted against Leliana and Cassandra. Neither are doing very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have zero self control. Thank you theCelticMyst. You know what you did.

Cullen chose a terrible time to stop taking lyrium.

They’d reached Haven three days before. It was too late to make the ascent to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, even with the orders to use horses instead of making a Pilgrim’s approach. The path was wide and well-marked, but there were still loose stones and other obstacles that would be a danger. Leliana and the diplomat… her name escaped him at present, were both disappointed that they would miss some party or another, but it was agreed that joining the talks in the morning was the best course of action.

After a late supper with his new associates, he had taken a few moments to pray, when the explosion rocked the valley and town of Haven. As a description, the word explosion left something to be desired, eruption was a far better word. It leveled the mountain that the Temple of Sacred Ashes perched upon, strangely there was surprisingly little debris in the aftermath. In its place was a large green tear in the Veil, and demons falling from it like rain through dark clouds.

The fresh start he’d hoped for was looking a whole lot like the life he’d left behind.

After assessing the situation, the strategy was simple. Clear the path to the Temple of Ashes, or what was left of it, and keep the demons away from civilians as much as possible. He didn’t have the troops to accomplish more than that, and the troops that he did have were not trained for the task at hand.

Sometime during the first night of fighting, a report came in about a woman that had somehow survived the explosion. In more than one garbled account, witnesses claimed she fell or jumped from the Breach and that another woman was behind her at the time. The Commander found that difficult to believe, but he dispatched Knight Captain Rylen to recover the survivor and bring her under guard, to Haven. He was more than willing to leave the investigation to Leliana. His hands were full already.

According to his reckoning, he’d been fighting for three days and two nights. There was food, and a few hours of sleep pushed upon him by Cassandra and Rylen. The sleep was hardly restful, and the demons encountered in the Fade were far more resilient than the ones he met while awake. He much preferred to have a sword in hand when he faced the denizens of the Fade.

This was a losing fight. There were not enough skilled fighters, and the demons kept pouring from the Breach. New rifts were opening all over the mountain and in the valley. They were outnumbered, and the best they could hope for was to buy time for the non-combatants to escape. He urged the Ambassador to take all those who were incapable of fighting and make their way to Denerim, but she refused to leave.

Cullen made his way through the gates, barking orders for the sentries to notify him if any demons approached. He took a seat near the fire and ladled some tasteless grey stew into a bowl. The Seeker wanted a report by midday, but there was really no news to give. The situation was the same as it was yesterday, and the day before.

The survivor, or prisoner, had a mark on her hand that was somehow connected to the Breach. When the Breach convulsed and spat out more demons, the mark reacted and grew. An elven apostate had a theory is that it could be used to close the Breach, and the many rifts that had appeared around it. The prisoner was still unconscious though, and it was unclear if she would recover enough to help.

Finished with his meal, Cullen stood and handed the bowl to one of the scouts. He thought about trying to sleep, but quickly dismissed the idea. It wouldn’t help much, and the line was barely holding as it was. The troops needed him, and he needed something to do.

Gianna slowly came to consciousness on her knees. Before she was fully aware of her surroundings, she felt the cold iron manacles on her hands. Opening her eyes was almost painful, but when she did, she saw the four guards, swords drawn, surrounding her. She felt the searing pain in her left hand before the flash of green light, and the sound of her own scream startled her.

As she struggled to make sense of her situation, two women entered the room. One was in Seeker’s armor, short black hair in a braid around her head. The other wore a softer cape, a deep hood obscuring the view of her head and eyes.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now,” the Seeker growled. “The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended has died, yet you survive.”

Gianna was still trying to get her brain to function properly. A green haze, spiders, and a strange woman in chantry garb became jumbled together with the gloom of the cold stone and clanking of chains. Struggling to separate reality from the fade terrors, her response to the Seeker’s question was silence. Until she knew more about what happened, keeping her mouth shut seemed the best option available. 

_Nevarran accent…_ Giana thought. _She’s wearing the armor of a Seeker of Truth… Cassandra Pentaghast. Left hand of the Divine, Hero of Orlais, and according to all accounts, she’s a major hard ass… And she wants to kill me. Fucking Brilliant._

Cassandra reached down and grabbed her hand. “Explain this!” she barked in her prisoner’s ear.

Gianna saw the palm spark green only a moment before pain tore through her palm and shot up her arm. “The fuck is that?” she spat, while the pain subsided.

“You don’t know?” questioned the Seeker, her hand coming to rest on the hilt of her sword.

“Not a clue,” was the reply.

Without warning, Gianna was grabbed by the collar. The Seeker’s livid, screaming face was only inches away from her face. “You’re lying,” she accused.

“We need her, Cassandra,” the other woman said. She reached out and put a soft hand on the Seekers arm.

_Orlesian accent,_ Gianna thought. _Reddish hair… Leliana, Left hand of the Divine. She’s the dangerous one; she’s pulling the strings. This is what happens when you get involved with the fucking Chantry._

“Look,” Gianna began. “Before you kill me, can you explain what happened?”

The Right and Left Hands exchanged a look before Leliana took a step forward. “What do you remember?” she asked.

Gianna closed her eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the last memory she had. When she opened them, she found a pair of cunning blue eyes looking into hers.

Taking a deep breath, Gianna answered. “I remember falling. I looked back and saw spiders chasing me. I started to climb, and there was a woman in front of me, urging me on.”

“A woman?” Leliana queried.

“A woman,” Gianna repeated. “I couldn’t see her clearly, but she spoke.”

Cassandra leaned forward. “What did she say?”

_Can she do anything that doesn’t seem menacing?_ Gianna asked herself before answering the question. “Something about hurrying, or to keep going.”

Gianna took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It’s hard to remember her exact words, but she was encouraging me. I can’t remember anything after that.”

The Nightingale stood up, and the mood in the room changed dramatically. With a nod, the soldiers guarding her filed out, and Gianna was left alone with the Right and Left Hands. Cassandra knelt to unshackle her hands, as she spoke.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to see if the Apostate was correct.”

Gianna was hauled roughly to her feet, and her hands bound with rope in front of her. It wasn’t freedom, but at least she wasn’t facing instant execution for whatever had happened. It seemed like progress.

“Seeker Pentaghast,” Gianna began. “Can I get something to eat before you throw me at whatever dangerous thing you plan on sacrificing me to?”

Cassandra spun around, almost toppling the bound Gianna with the force. “I beg your pardon? How dare you…”

“If I’m correct,” Gianna explained, “You’re planning to take me somewhere, and I’m going to be expected to do something. Correct?”

Cassandra was still sputtering in rage, so Leliana answered. “Yes, that sums it up.”

Gianna paused to think. She wanted to sound less demanding and more helpful. “I’m starving. If I’m going to be expected to get there on my own steam, and do something strenuous after that, getting something to eat first would only make sense.

“I’m more than willing to do whatever you ask.” Gianna grinned, or at least tried to. “Is food before probable death too much to ask?”

Leliana laughed. It was a tinkling sound, like bells. It shouldn’t sound as menacing as it did. _But_ , Gianna thought, _It is what it is._

“Is an apple and a glass of water acceptable?” Leliana lilted.

A genuine smile lit Gianna’s features. “An apple and a glass of water would be amazing.” She nodded at Leliana and the still scowling Cassandra. “Thank you.” 

Leliana disappeared into the darkened hallway. A few minutes later, an apple sailed through the air, heading toward Gianna’s head. Catching it nimbly, she immediately took a bite, a drop of juice dribbling down her chin. She closed her eyes and moaned a little with the pleasure of it.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and gave a sound of disgust that would make any Revered Mother envious. “Are you going to be through anytime soon? The sky is rent open, the world is filling with demons, and we’re here while you eat.”

“What?” Gianna almost choked.

“Come,” the Seeker said. “I’ll explain on the way.”

_What the fuck did you get yourself into this time, Kit?_ Gianna asked herself, as she followed the older woman into the darkness. _More importantly, how are you going to get yourself out of it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what to do here. Please do it. I need a hit of happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Please Kudo and comment. I love the feedback. I crave attention. If I don't get it from you, I'll annoy my dog. Have you seen an annoyed Jack Russell Terrier? It's not pretty.


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